Begin Again
by Rorylie
Summary: Jaimie realizes that she might be able to start over. Written for LJ's 10 I love yous, prompt complicated.


Dean didn't like complicated. Complicated could get you killed, and even when it didn't, it was still a pain in the ass.

So why was it he fell for the most complicated girl he'd ever met, the one girl who'd stormed into his life and fucked everything up for him.

But he had, he'd fallen in love with her, and he hated being in love about as much as he'd always thought he would.

And god she was complicated, more fucked up than him and that was saying something.

He was in the middle of a date, if you could really call it a date, with a pretty amazing looking redhead, when Jaimie called.

"I think I might be in trouble," she said.

"What's going on?" he asked, standing up, stepping away from his date.

"I need your help."

"Where are you?" He grabbed his coat, turned back to his date. "Work," he explained with a shrug. "We'll do this again sometime."

"Sure," she nodded, an amused smile on her face, and he would have had fun with her. She seemed like a lot of fun, a lot of uncomplicated fun.

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He found Jaimie sitting at the corner of the bar where she could take everything in. She was sipping on a girly cocktail and smiling at the bartender, leaning forward a little bit to subtly show off her tits, playing the guy perfectly, because that's what they did, they played people, and sometimes they played each other.

He took a seat on the stool next to her and ordered a beer, smiling at her and she gave him a flirtatious smile back, her finger running around the rim of her glass.

"You think you ditched the guys?" he asked quietly, leaning into her.

"I think so," she whispered back. "Unless they're waiting for me outside, but I think I lost them when I ditched my car."

He nodded. "What were they driving?"

"Black Escalade," she answered.

"You get a look at any of them?"

"No. Tinted windows."

He sighed. "Couldn't just make things easy, could you sweetheart?"

"I'm sorry the guys who were following me weren't idiots," she snapped, and that was the first time she really let it show how freaked out she was, though he could tell, could feel the tension coming off of her in waves, could see how tightly wound she was, ready to pounce at any second.

"Let's get out of here," he said, tossing some cash on the bar to pay for their drinks.

"What if they're outside?" she asked, following him.

"Then hopefully we shoot them before they shoot us," he answered.

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No one had been waiting for them outside, or followed them back to his place where he'd insisted they stay, but Jaimie was still jumpy. He'd told her to take a shower and fixed her a drink, had a glass of tequila waiting for her when she got out, wet hair still dripping down at her shoulders.

"Who do you think those guys were?" she asked.

He shrugged. "We should call Carter, he might know."

Neither of them moved, him in his chair and her on the couch.

"I need to get my car," she finally said.

"They might be watching it. I'll get Ty to go with me and pick it up tomorrow."

"I must have screwed up," she said, shaking her head. "I don't even know what I did. All I have left is this job and I screwed it up. I'm a fuck up, I always have been and no matter what I change, I can't change that. No wonder Scott fucked around on me and I fucked you over. No one is ever going to love me, I can't even do one stupid thing in my life the right way."

"You done feeling sorry for yourself yet?" he muttered. "Cause when you called I was on a date with a fucking hot redhead with amazing tits."

"You should have left me there then."

"And let you get yourself killed cause you're suddenly on some fucking suicide mission?"

"Why do you care? You hate me."

"You aren't really that fucking stupid are you?" he demanded, raising his voice. "Fuck, Jaimie, I would love to hate you instead of being stuck being fucking in love with you!" He was breathing hard, she did that to him, made him completely fucking lose it and he wanted to be able to take the words back, to rewind the whole damn night.

She was staring at him, her mouth open, bottom lip quivering slightly.

"Don't you fucking cry," he muttered.

"I should go," she said, standing up.

"Where the fuck are you gonna go, Jaimie? It's the middle of the goddamn night and you don't have a fucking car."

"What do you want me to do?" she asked softly.

"Nothing. Just keep doing nothing sweetheart, you're real fucking good at it. At ignoring this, pretending it's nothing, or fuck, I don't know, maybe it is nothing to you."

"You're such a bastard," she hissed, pacing the small space in front of him.

"I am," he nodded. "And if you walk out that door right now don't come back. Don't call me next time you need help, or you're lonely, or you need to feel better about yourself. Walk out the door right now and that's it."

"You bastard," she repeated, lunging at him, slamming her fists against his chest.

She pulled back and stumbled he and reached out, grabbing her by the hands to keep her from falling.

"Let go of me!" she screamed, hitting him again and again. "Let go of me, let go, let go!"

"Jaimie you're gonna hurt yourself," he said, holding her tightly.

"Let go," she said weakly, sinking to the floor at his feet. "Just let me go."

"I don't know how to do that," he said softly.

She started to cry, her body shaking and he lifted her slowly and carried her to his bed.

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He was stretched out on the bed next to her when she started to stir. Not technically in bed with her, he'd tucked the blankets around her body and he was on top of them, like that mattered somehow, made him some kind of gentleman.

She stirred slowly, turned to face him and silently studied his face.

"I'm sorry,' she whispered.

He shook his head. "Don't worry about it. I think we both said a lot of things we wished we hadn't. Let's just forget it, all of it."

"Please don't ask me to do that, to forget what you said."

"Jaimie," he protested.

"I can't tell you what you want to hear, not right now, even though," she paused, "even though I know I feel it too, I just, I can't handle it right now, Dean, I can't deal with it, any of it. I'm sorry. I'm not asking you to wait for me, I'm just asking you…don't make me forget what you said. And if you could wait for me, if you wanted to wait for me…" she shrugged. "I'll try to get better, be less crazy, be less…"

"Complicated?" he asked.

"I could try."

"Why don't you try to get some more sleep," he murmured. "You're exhausted, you really want to get better, get some rest."

"What happens when I wake up?" she asked, looking up at him.

"We go you," he answered. "Have some breakfast."

"It's not that simple."

He shrugged. "It's a start."


End file.
